Читать книгу The Immortals - J.T. Ellison, J.T. Ellison - Страница 18

Nashville

11:58 p.m.

Theo Howell’s house was obviously the place to be.

It seemed like most of Hillsboro High School’s senior class was in attendance, congregating at the Howell home. The street was lined with vehicles, Jettas and BMWs and Mercedes and Volvos and Jeeps parading up and down the skinny road with wheels half in the ditch and half on the scree. McKenzie’s unmarked was parked across the street.

There was no loud music or yelling, though, just a somber grayness. The rain had started in earnest again and the lights of the Howells’ house did little to illuminate their driveway. A dog began barking incessantly next door. Taylor felt each yap in the back of her skull.

Time to enter the land of text messaging. The door was red, with a bold brass lion-face knocker. Taylor grasped its protruding tongue and banged on the plate three times.

A handsome teenager opened the door, brown hair cut long over his forehead, wearing a Ralph Lauren button-down oxford cloth shirt and khaki trousers. His eyes were puffy, the trace of tears past shed. He gave her a sad smile, looking much older than his age.

“I’m Theo Howell. Please.” He shook her hand and gestured for her to come in. Once she was in the foyer, he threw the dead bolt on the door.

A hush fell over the group of kids. Taylor was faced with a bevy of scared teenagers, all looking her over, and a few parents—she counted seven in all—drinking coffee in the living room. They stood when they saw her, faces bleak and scared.

She could hear the murmurs. What’s happened? Are there more?

McKenzie extricated himself from the group of teenage girls that surrounded him in the kitchen, trying to comfort one another, and came into the foyer to greet them.

“Oh, good. You’re here. You’ve met Theo, I see.”

“Yes,” Taylor said, turning back to the boy. “Thanks for keeping everyone here for us.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am. To be honest, I think everyone realized we could be safe if we had strength in numbers. It would be hard to get in here and take anyone down. A few kids’ parents insisted they come home, and the rest just came on over. We were most appreciative that you sent Detective McKenzie to keep an eye out for us. Do you have any ideas who might have done this? Who killed our friends?”

The locked door. The air loaded with fright. The poor kids had been sitting here all night, friends dying a few streets away, worrying that they were being targeted, too. And the parents didn’t know why, or how, or who had threatened their children’s lives. Not that she blamed them. She’d been worried about them being targeted herself, but seeing their abject fear gave her a whole new perspective on this tragedy.

She faced the group and answered the unasked questions. “We’re doing everything we can. Nothing has changed. We don’t have a suspect or a motive just yet. You’re doing the right thing, sticking together. We’ll keep you posted.”

The murmurs began again, this time tinged with relief. She stepped back into the foyer to get out of their line of sight, and turned to Theo.

“We’re hoping you can shed some light on what’s been happening. I know you were close friends with Xander Norwood. I’d like to talk to you about him, about everyone who was killed today. Is there someplace private we can go?”

“Yes, ma’am. My father’s office is just through here. No one is allowed in there when we, I mean Daisy and I, have guests over.”

“Who’s Daisy?”

“My sister.” He pointed to a neat blond girl sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter. “She’s in there with some of her friends. She’s a junior. They all knew Amanda, and Chelsea and Rachel.”

There was a knock behind her and Theo started. Poor kid.

“That’s going to be Detective Wade. McKenzie, do you have everyone’s statements?”

“Nearly. A few more to go.”

“Okay. Don’t let me keep you. Marcus and I will talk with Theo.”

“Gotcha, boss. I’ll let him in.”

“Detective, sir? Please lock the door behind you,” Theo asked softly. McKenzie nodded at him. She was happy to see that McKenzie had established some rapport with these kids—it would help. In her experience, teenagers were a secretive lot.

Marcus joined her, and she introduced him to Theo. He shook Marcus’s hand, then led them to a set of closed double doors. He fetched a key out of his front pocket, turned the lock and swung the right-hand door open. He allowed her to enter first, twisted his arm around the door frame to pull the chain on a floor lamp. The warm wooden space glowed in the soft light. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and a ladder on rails leaned against the far wall. It smelled pleasantly of paper and leather, without a hint of must.

Theo turned on a few more lights, then stood calmly by a large rosewood desk with a leather top. He saw Taylor looking at the books, waved nonchalantly toward the shelves.

“My father is a collector. He owns the Classics Bookstore in Franklin. He does some work with the public, but his passion, his occupation, is with serious collectors overseas. He’s at a conference in Geneva right now. My mom’s with him. They had their eyes on a first-edition Hemingway. They’re supposed to be bidding on it at auction tonight. Dad thinks he can get it for a steal. He’s got a client in Toronto willing to pay through the nose for it.” He broke off. “I’m sorry, I must be boring you. I forget that not everyone is a bibliophile. I’m hoping to take the store over for him one day.”

“Actually, that’s not boring at all. I love books. And I’d love to hear more about what your dad does. I’m familiar with his store, actually. But that will have to wait for another time. Can we sit?”

There were two large leather chairs facing a cognac-colored sofa in the center of the room. Theo nodded, took a seat on the sofa. He hardly seemed like an eighteen-year-old whose best friend had just died. His presence was comforting her.

Marcus went to the bookcase, trailing his fingers along the spines, and Taylor arranged herself in one of the chairs with her notebook.

“So, Theo. Xander was your best friend. How many of the victims do you know personally?”

“From what I’ve heard about who was killed, all of them.”

“Who have you heard about?”

“Jerry King, Ashley Norton, Mandy and Xander. Chelsea Mott and Rachel Welch were together too, and Brandon. I also heard a rumor that another girl was taken to the hospital.”

“News travels fast. It’s not a rumor. Do you know Brittany Carson?”

“Is that her name? No, I don’t. Never heard of her.”

“She attends St. Cecilia’s. I was hoping she had some ties to your friends at Hillsboro.”

“Well, you know how it is. The kids who live on either side of us go to private school, Montgomery Bell and Ensworth, but we don’t hang out. It’s the neighborhood dynamic, I guess.”

“So how did you hear about the murders?”

He held up his cell. “Everyone’s been talking. I’ve gotten nearly two hundred texts this afternoon. I’m way over my limit—my parents are going to kill me.” He winced as soon as the words were out.

“Would you be willing to let me see your texts?” she asked.

He paused for the barest of moments. “They’ll look like gibberish to you. I know my father absolutely hates it when I abbreviate, the language we use. He thinks it represents the decline of modern society. But the smart keyboard makes it so much easier to talk quickly.”

“I can’t say I disagree with your father there. My computer expert is pretty handy with all things technical. He should be able to translate for us. Tell me how you heard about Xander.”

Theo squirmed in his seat. He’d paled when she mentioned Lincoln’s expertise, and she knew he was hiding something.

“Theo?”

His eyes filled with tears. “I think I talked to him right before he died.”

“You do? Why is that?”

Theo went from a prepossessed young man to a child in an instant, face screwed up in an attempt not to start weeping. She gave him a few breaths to get back under control.

“It’s okay, Theo. We’re just talking. You’re not in trouble, not unless you had something to do with the murders.”

“God, no. Of course I didn’t. You can’t actually think that.”

“Then relax. I just want to know what happened this afternoon.”

“Are you going to tell my parents what I say?”

“Are you eighteen?” He nodded. “Then so long as you haven’t broken any laws, I see no need to divulge the information. Just tell me the truth, okay? We’ll get along much better if you tell me the truth.”